


I thought you were better (but it's kinda my fault, isn't it?)

by the_beloved_phoenix



Series: but it's kinda my fault, isn't it? (dadschlatt) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cussing, DadSchlatt, Platonic Relationships, abusive platonic relationships, no shipping you fucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28605450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_beloved_phoenix/pseuds/the_beloved_phoenix
Summary: People asked me for more dadschlatt, so here's the first bit I wrote.If you hate it. Please tell me but politely, if you like it, leave it in comments, I'll continue.This is based around the festival that Tubbo was executed at. But I will say that I didn't and have not watched Tubbo's or Quackity's streams for that event. So if accuracy is a dealbreaker, know that the speech will be word for word, but everything else before that will not be, it's a fanfic guys, obviously.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Series: but it's kinda my fault, isn't it? (dadschlatt) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096079
Comments: 16
Kudos: 73





	1. Betrayal

“Where do you think he goes, pres?” Quackity asked the already drunk leader of their country. 

“Does it-” Schlatt cut himself off by taking another swig out of the mostly empty bottle. “Does it fuckin’ matter?” He said, looking annoyed by the younger man’s questions. 

“Well- I just- he should be here, shouldn’t he? He should be loyal to this country, and he’s always just vanishin’, leaving to go wherever he wants?” Quackity asked, and Schlatt eyed him, looking as though he wasn’t actually paying attention to the words Quackity was saying, just the way he looked. 

It had stopped bothering Quackity a while ago. Schlatt looked at almost everyone like that, like they were only there for him to amuse himself with. There were only three people he didn’t look at like that; Tommy, Wilbur, and Tubbo. 

Tommy and Wilbur, that Quackity understood. They were banned, useless, and he didn’t think Schlatt wanted to even think about them. But Tubbo.. Quackity had yet to figure that one out. 

Schlatt had finished the bottle while Quackity was thinking, and he slammed it against the table’s edge, letting the sound of shattering glass be what brought his vice president back. He looked annoyed that Quackity wasn’t paying attention to him, despite that he hadn’t been saying anything. 

“Schlatt!” Quackity exclaimed, before realizing he’d spoken. 

Schlatt looked at him, annoyed, a question in his eyes, one he didn’t voice. _What do you want?_

“I- Maybe we should go investigate? It can’t hurt to find out what he’s up to?” Quackity suggested, desperately trying to get the president out of the house, away from the stash of liquor he kept there. Quackity had tried burning it once. He still had bruises from the fallout of that, Schlatt having decided to fight him for ‘destroying his shit’. 

There was a prolonged silence as Schlatt stood, taking steps towards the door, towards Quackity, the glass crunching underneath his shoes. 

“Oh, what the hell. Get me another drink, and I’ll come with you on your little…” He waved his hand about, not finishing his sentence, clearly under the belief that his drunken waving about was all the info that he needed. 

“I- right away Pres.” Quackity said, stopping himself from arguing. Just one more, and they’d be out of the house for… who knows how long. Hopefully enough for him to get at least semi sober again. 

He retrieved another one of the beers from the fridge that was basically stocked full of them. Or, it had been, earlier today. Quackity let out a frustrated sigh before turning back, walking towards the hall Schlatt had disappeared down, only to see the President walking out of his bedroom with his suit jacket now on, and he’d attempted to fix his tie, but hadn’t really succeeded. 

Quackity held the drink out to him, and Schlatt took it, popping the lid off, before downing about half of it. 

“Let’s fucking go then, sweetheart.” He said, sarcastically, and Quackity nodded, leading him out of the house and down, following Tubbo, who he saw in the distance. 

Eventually, they came to a tunnel. 

  
*********

“I can’t believe Tubbo would-”

“Would what? Fuckin’ betray me? I told you, Quackity, you’re the only one I got left. Everyone else- they just leave me. The pussies.” He slurred, and Quackity frowned. Schlatt had just collapsed on the couch, and he… he wasn’t in any kind of shape. Seeing Tubbo be a traitor had beaten him up much more than Quackity thought anything could. 

“Schlatt, you need to-”

  
**********  
  


“You need to stop drinking, you’re gonna-”

“Fuck did you just say?” Schlatt asked the younger man, looking up at him from where he sat on the couch. He might have been drunk, but he could still throw a punch better than Quackity could have ever hoped to. 

“I said you need to stop drinking! You’re gonna get alcohol poisoning, Schlatt, and this country needs a president!” Quackity exclaimed, not backing down. 

Schlatt frowned at him, before finishing what was left in the bottle he currently held, considering it. 

He decided to just mock Quackity. 

“Like you would fuckin’ know, you’re fuckin’ useless around here, you bitch- you aren’t- you aren’t _manly_ enough, Big Q- should be little Q, as small as those fuckin’ muscles are.” He started, and Quackity stared at the ground, not meeting Schlatt’s eyes. 

“Like you’re so fuckin’ manly? Like getting drunk is so cool? Yeah you think you have anything on me? Bitch?” Quackity retorted with. 

“Fuck you, man, fuck off.” Schlatt said, laying down on the couch. It felt good to not be sitting upright. His head hurt like.. It hurt. And he- he wanted to sleep. He wanted to drink more, actually, but he knew he couldn’t walk, and Quackity had made it pretty clear he wasn’t gonna be bringing any beer to him. 

Quackity sighed. “Look, just.. Just don’t- you can’t keep doing this!” He said, before Schlatt heard him walking out of the room. 

_He’s right, you know. If you were manly, you’d have been taking care of your fuckin’ kid._ His thoughts started up again, the lull in conversation enough for them to return. 

“Wait- Big Q-” He called, right as he heard his front door slam shut. 

There would be no friendly- or unfriendly- banter for the rest of the night. And he had started to wonder. Would things be different if he’d kept.. If he hadn’t-

He’d given him up, yea, but he never expected the kid to fuckin’ betray him. Not.. not like this- he probably didn’t even remember his dad. He treated Tommy and Wilbur like his brothers. They didn’t even seem to remember anything about him. 

He didn’t know why he bothered. He spent all this fuckin time becoming president so that L’manberg would be a better place, would be a safe place for his son, only for his son to ignore that, to betray him. 

He needed to be put in his place. He needed to know exactly what that earned him, what happened to traitors. 

He’d had so much- so much _potential_ . He’d been right, though. Philza had been a _shit_ father, who’d abandoned the boys. They were- god, they were just kids, and they were _in_ government! Dealing _drugs_ , even! 

For some reason, he felt guilty. 

The lack of alcohol didn’t help.


	2. Lyin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry but.. i had the idea for the second half of the chapter and I HAD to write it.   
> it is SO FUNNY

“Yeah- Kid, we’re gonna have a festival, and I want  _ you _ to decorate for it.” He explained, clapping his hand on his son’s shoulder. 

“Oh- Okay. Yeah! I can do that!” Tubbo stuttered out, seeming confused, worried. Schlatt smiled at his son. 

“Good. We’ll be having it soon. Make sure everyone knows about it, Quackity. Tubbo… Don’t disappoint me.” He ordered, pausing. He sounded exactly like his dad. 

“Oh, and Alex? Get me a fuckin’ drink.” He added. He didn’t have time to think about the implications of that. 

Quackity nodded, letting Tubbo leave the room before shutting the door behind him. 

He reentered with a bottle in his hand, and Schlatt sighed, holding out his own hand for Quackity to place it in. Quackity did not. 

“What’s  _ up _ with you, Schlatt? Making him decorate his own fucki-”

“He’s a traitor. He deserves it. He shouldn’t betray me. Not  _ me. _ I deserve more respect than that. You hear me?” He asked, his voice getting louder. He was gesturing with his hands, angrily. Quackity flinched when he did. 

He didn’t care. 

“You  _ hear me _ ? I deserve more fuckin’ respect!” He yelled. Quackity nodded, slowly. 

He was scared. Good. He should be. He should be  _ terrified. _ Schlatt wasn’t  _ weak _ . He wasn’t weak. He never had been. Philza had been- He’d been wrong. He was a useless idiot who had just wanted to steal his kid. 

He wanted Schlatt to be the villain. He wouldn’t be. He wasn’t. He was the  _ fuckin president,  _ baby! He was in charge, and he was doing  _ great _ ! The country was doing great!

Quackity was still silent. That wouldn’t do. He needed  _ respect _ , that’s what was wrong around here. 

“You better answer me when I ask ya a fuckin’ question, babe.” He ordered, adding on the petname at the end as a scorn. He knew he hated it when he was called that. He’d liked it at first, playing along with the joke. 

He hadn’t realized that he  _ was _ the fuckin joke. 

He knew now. 

**********

There was a knock on the door. 

“What the fuck do ya want, Quackity, I’m not-” Schlatt groaned out, annoyed, as Tubbo openned the door. 

“Oh. Tubbo. What do you need, kid.” He muttered a question, staring at his desk. 

“Well, I- I wanted to talk to you- I was wondering if I could- If you’d mind if I told a speech at the Festival? Because this country is just so great! And I think it’d be an honor to get to-”

“Sure. Fine. I don’t give a shit. I’m reading your speech before you say it, though.” Schlatt cut him off. The kid’s babbling was painful. It had been endearing, once. Bearable when he wasn’t a  _ fuckin traitor _ . 

“Thank you! I’ll make sure you get it!” Tubbo said. He sounded so  _ goddamn _ excited. For a festival celebrating the country, the  _ president _ he was betraying. 

Schlatt smirked to himself, glancing at the empty bottles in the trashcan. If this was a drunken decision, he didn’t care. 

“Hey kid?” He asked, trying to hide the way his eyes narrowed as Tubbo practically shrank from his gaze. That’s right. 

_ He  _ was in charge here. Not his traitorous son. 

“Yea- Yea, Schlatt?” He asked, and Schlatt held back a hiss at being addressed with his name- not his title. 

“You’ve been gone an awful lot recently… what were ya doin’, exactly? ‘Cause I went to your house, and I couldn’t find you.” He asked, enjoying the way Tubbo was more than practically squirming. 

“Oh- I- uh. I..” He trailed off. 

“You…?” Schlatt asked, his tone mocking his son’s inability to form an excuse. Was he going to come clean? Schlatt might forgive him, if he came clean and begged for forgiveness. He was a  _ traitor _ . 

_ Fucking Philza, ruining  _ **_my_ ** _ kid. _ He thought, his thoughts spiralling down the path of hatred, of regret. 

“I’m pregnant.” Tubbo said, snapping Schlatt back out of his thoughts. Or, at least, he had thought he heard Tubbo say that. 

There was  _ no way _ . 

Schlatt couldn’t conceal the coughing as he choked on air. “I’m.. I’m sorry. You  _ what _ ? _ ” _ He asked, between coughs. 

“I’m pregnant!” Tubbo said brightly. 

He didn’t have anything to say for a decent minute after that. It wasn’t  _ possible _ . He wasn’t fuckin’ insane, he knew his kid couldn’t have  _ children _ . The doctors would have mentioned  _ that _ , in all the hospital visits he’d taken to make sure Tubbo’s crying wasn’t him fucking  _ dying _ . 

“You…” He trailed off, unknowingly mirroring his words from earlier, none of the mocking tone he’d had, just the utter confusion, mixed with anger. 

“Yeah! It’s-”

“Congrats. Get the fuck out of my office.” Schlatt said, cutting him off as he gestured for him to leave. He didn’t want to hear his son lying anymore. 

“Uh… Thank you?” Tubbo said, turning, the door shutting punctuating his sentence. 

He couldn’t fucking believe this shit. His  _ own kid _ making up a fucking- fake pregnancy. Not even a believable one. 

Phil really took his perfectly good, amazing kid, and fucked him up, didn’t he? Leaving him with fucking  _ Wilbur _ , leaving him to…

He glanced around his office. He needed a new bottle. He needed a cigarette. He needed… he needed  _ something _ . 

Having a kid wasn’t supposed to be this difficult. Especially after…

He didn’t remember any thoughts after that the next day. 

He wished he didn’t remember that one. 

He kept drinking. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like it! lmk! if you dont! lmk! cause I can't tell if you see it and don't like it? Trying to figure out if I should continue this.


End file.
